The Time of Change

Infinitely More

I pace anxiously from the console to the railing, waiting for the Doctor to enter the TARDIS. I convinced him and the Tenth to follow the Warrior because something is wrong, and I know it. Still, they had to restore the memories of the humans and Zygons and ensure the peace treaty stood strong. I understand, but at the same time, I'm practically on fire with fear.

What if we're too late?

Just as I think this, the door opens, and I spin around in relief. The man who enters, however, is not my husband. The Tenth Doctor gives me a cheeky smile as he approaches. I let out a breathy laugh. "Ah, wrong TARDIS," I tell him.

He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows. "Nah, it's fine."

"... You sure?" I ask, chuckling.

The TARDIS whispers to me, He's got an ulterior motive.

He glares up at the ceiling. "I do not," he tells her, then adds to me, "I promise! You died, and I've just—well, I-I've missed you. Is that so villainous?"

I smile at him as he walks up the ramp and stands in front of me. "Not at all," I reply.

A miniscule beat passes between us before he continues, "But I... I do have a question for you."

Raising my eyebrows in amusement, I say, "Alright." I watch as he uneasily fidgets his hands and feet, a trait that my husband inherited on a much more serious level. The Tenth Doctor taps the console with his fingers a few times, then stutters, "Now, I know how this will sound, so please don't take offense to it. Nothing, like, tipped me off or anything. I'm... Well, I'm perceptive. You know that." I nod with furrowed brows.

Eyes wide but locked on my own, he starts, "Are we—you... Are you, um... ex... pecting?"

My heart drops to the floor, and a cold flash jolts through me. I open my mouth, but no words come out. Still, the Doctor has his answer.

"You are," he breathes. "You are?" Elation lights a fire inside him that begins in his eyes and travels all the way through his body. Within the moment, everything about him feels inflated. Voice at a shout, he continues, "You're pregn—"

I quickly clamp my hand down on his mouth, peering nervously around him at the cracked-open door a few feet off. His eyes widen even more as he watches me. His tender hand grabs my own and moves it from his lips, and he asks in a very low voice, "I don't know?"

Unwarranted shame fills the cavity of my chest, and I shake my head slightly. The Doctor's face falls; he turns his head to look at the empty space behind us. "You're afraid to tell me," he neither asks nor states.

My heart lurches, and I launch into a defense. "No, never," I assure him. "Who you become is not that kind of man. I promise you. Don't you ever worry about that."

"Then what is it?" he inquires of me almost pleadingly. "Annalise, look how happy I am, and I wasn't even part of the conception! Well, if you got technical, you could say we all were, but I'd imagine that's a bit uncomfortable to think about." We both shudder, and he adds, "My point was, if I'm this ecstatic, how could you have any fears about how he'll react? He's known you longer than I have."

I take a deep breath. I haven't had much time to think about my reasons for not telling my husband yet, but I know it's not out of fear that he won't be happy. I think I might be afraid of just that: his happiness. When he realizes what has happened, he'll want to devote time to ensuring nothing but safety and comfort for me because that is just who he is. That means that he will put a pause on our intergalactic crime-fighting, which in turn would result in a whole lot of people left needing him. Not only that, but he would be giving up something he loves, and that is time-travel. I couldn't ask him to do that—not for me and not for anyone else.

"I know he'll be excited," I tell the Tenth, my voice quiet. "That's what scares me. 'The Doctor' is who he is, and when he finds out that there's a third wheel on the way, he'll want to slow down or stop. I could never do that to him. He loves all this"—I gesture around at the room—"way too much."

The Tenth shakes his head at me lovingly. "'The Doctor' is my name," he tells me, taking my hand and softly stroking it. "It's not who I am. Time-travel is not who I am. Those are things I do. You taught me that distinction, that what I've done and who I am are two totally separate things. I hope who I am is who you've always seen in me: a good man. Well, not a man, but you know." I giggle, and he looks at me with a very concentrated love. "I have missed that smile," he whispers, half to himself. With an intense look in his eye, he says, "Just off the top of my head, I can name ten instances where I was willing to die for you until you beat me to it. I may love time-traveling and being a sciency know-it-all, but believe me when I say I love you infinitely more."

Something warm and pleasant fills me up in my entirety, and the smile I give him is wobbly and sincere. "I have never seen myself happier than how he looks with you," the Tenth Doctor asserts softly. "Tell him." The second sentence is imploring as he presses a gentle kiss to my forehead.

I scrunch my nose at him. "I think I just did," I reply. "He'll probably remember this conversation."

"Our timelines are all out of whack," he explains. "None of us will be able to retain any of this after it's all over. You might remember," he adds, "but only because you aren't a Timelord. Still, it's iffy."

"What's taking him so long, by the way?" I ask. "Shouldn't he have been done with the humans ages ago?"

The Doctor flashes me a half-guilty, half-cocky smile. "I may have sped up time within the TARDIS," he muses, "and if I did that, only about a second and a half would have passed since I came in here."

I laugh, and abruptly, he casts his eyes down at my stomach. He touches his hand to the bump there with elated hesitance. When he meets my gaze, I expect him to either be silent or to say something about him being happy again. I smile as tears fill my eyes.

Instead, he says, "When it's born... whether it's a boy or girl, name it Chinny."